And the Hazy Sea
by JuiceBox Hero
Summary: "Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it". A woman is raised in a world that is not her own, and meets her destiny on the road she took to avoid it. (OC/semi S/I).
1. Prologue

A/N: I know that Temazcal hasn't been updated in roughly a thousand years and the excuse is that my following chapter drafts somehow got corrupted and now I can't open them. In other words, I've become defeated regarding it. While I in no way think I'm a good enough writer to warrant a following, I do apologize. It sucks to have a story you're reading just stop. There's a chance I'll continue it because I have the plot dotted around in notebooks and the rest held in the two brain cells I still have left, but it'll be slow going (you'll probably be collecting retirement). I want to be invigorated and excited by writing, so I've decided to start on a silly and self-indulgent OC/SI I've had bobbing around in my head. So, this is a 'just for fun'. That's what writing should be about, right?

* * *

 **Prologue**

 _Through the knotted trees_

 _I see you for the first time_

 _We are both reborn_

It took defection to see the sun.

Her hair was matted from days of neglect, her clothes were filthy and sweat-stained, and the kunai strapped to her mother's body painted bruises into her legs as she was jostled on her okaa-san's back, (as she was too little to keep pace with too little chakra to water walk), but when Nanami saw the sun, finally strong enough to break through the mist that had hung over her all her life, she had never felt such joy.

They had made it to the Land of Honey. On little sleep and even less food, Izumi Chiyoko had fled with her daughter. She ran; across Mizu, darting through marshland and river deltas, skating across the sea for miles until finding shabby fishing boats on which to stow away. She had slipped through cabin windows, huddled between netting and crates of fish, clutching her sleeping daughter, eyes wide, tracking every creak and hum of the vessel.

And now, as blistered feet touched upon the lush shore of Honey, Nanami's gasp at the sight of the sun and the blue of the sky, cut through Chiyoko's labored breaths. Even though they were still not safe, would probably never be safe, Chiyoko didn't protest as Nanami slid down her back, and took a few light steps towards the sun dappled tree line.

She sank to the ground cross legged, and ran her small hand through the sand, letting the grains fall through her fingers. Large eyes peered up at the skyline, savored the heat and humidity that warmed her skin, and for the first time in a long time, Nanami smiled. She met her mother's weary face, and with the tentative smile still on her lips, stood up, brushing the sand from her pants.

Nanami took Chiyoko's callused hand in her own, rubbing her thumb against her mother's palm, and leaned against her arm, and for a moment the tension in Chiyoko's shoulders seeped out and she brushed a kiss on the crown of her daughter's head.

They stayed hand in hand for a few quiet minutes until Chiyoko slipped her hand free, and stepped into the gnarled greenery of the mangroves.

Nanami watched in silence as her mother calmly removed her hitai-ate, the first time in over a week, and scratched a steady, deep line through the symbol of the Mist.

* * *

"It's a girl." The medic dully informed. Chiyoko nodded faintly, eyes never moving from the gloomy window view, a shroud of gray only broken by the ugliness of industrial buildings.

The fluorescent bulbs that plague every hospital cast a harsh light on Chiyoko, reflecting the sheen of sweat that dampened her body and plastered her dark hair to her face.

The medic and new mother remained silent as the infant girl's cries turned to whimpers. Soundlessly, the medic cleaned the baby and placed her in the crib beside the hospital bed before he stepped out of the room, the door closing with a heavy 'click'.

The baby was asleep. The only sound in the room was the hum of the lights.

She was afraid to look. Chiyoko wouldn't cry, as a Kiri nin, she wasn't sure she was even able to anymore, but she tilted her head up out of habit to stem any possible tears. Would she look like him? What if she didn't? Which was worse?

An image of a pale, magnetic man, dressed in Kiri pinstripe, inky hair brushing over equally dark eyes crossed her memory "Ryou…"

Units weren't based on any long-term familiarity in Kiri, but rather on necessity. This is turn resulted in very few lasting working relationships, and even fewer deeper connections. However, as one of the few third-caste jōnin, Chiyoko often led the high-risk missions forced upon the ninja from families captured in battle or annexed into the village meant to keep them too busy or too dead to revolt.

Ryou, a long-range specialist chūnin was often under her command. The Sano clan, just as the Izumi, had fought and lost against the forces of Mist, and that miasma of resignation and defeat had never left the psyche of the conquered clans.

But not Ryou.

Like a moth to the flame, Chiyoko was drawn to the charismatic man who was full of life in a way she had never before encountered. He was vibrant in a world of muted grays.

He had asked her to dinner after their third mission. Startled at his confidence -she was his commander after all- she stuttered out a "sure". After eight months of dating, Chiyoko stood in front of Ryou with a shy smile and a positive pregnancy test. He had laughed in delight, and kissed her stomach with a smile like sunlight.

But sunlight couldn't last long in a world of mist.

 _Extra assignments to make up for her pregnancy leave._

 _A mission he didn't come back from._

 _A small funeral with no body._

The newborn started to cry, startling Chiyoko out of her reverie.

She looked to the door in alarm, hoping the medic would come in and take care of the crying infant. But when the wails became louder, and it was clear no one was coming to help her, Chiyoko steeled herself and with a slight grimace of pain, turned to look at her daughter.

She was Izumi. Barely minutes old, the baby already had the clear characteristic of her clan. Her skin was a warm toffee that would deepen with sun, and she was born with a full head of hair that was thick, cocoa brown with the start of the soft wave so distinct to the clan. As she held her to her breast, the baby's crying stopped and she opened her eyes. The blue of her eyes, matched Chiyoko's own, and she knew it wasn't the blue that faded with infancy but her true eye color.

Searching her face for any sign of Ryou, Chiyoko's gaze lingered on the baby's nose. The slight aquiline shape caused her breath to hitch.

There was Ryou. He was still there.

"Welcome to the world, baby. Welcome to the world…Nanami."


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Quick fire chapter! I'm pretty sure this is the only time I've ever written another chapter within 3 months of each other (whoops). The next one won't come as quickly, as I have an insane amount of work to do in real life that I've been avoiding, but it'll most likely be longer, and I thought a little Nanami insight would be nice.

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 _From abyss to life_

 _Plane begotten unanswered_

 _Soul as swirling steam_

* * *

She couldn't tell anyone she didn't belong there. No, honestly, in the beginning she physically couldn't.

She had no control of her limbs, no motor skills, she couldn't arrange her tongue to utter the words "What the hell is going on!?" Her body didn't feel like her own.

She slept often. During the brief times she was awake, she considered her situation and assumed she was in some sort of coma. Felt disconnected from her body? Check. Was often unconscious? Check. Could only see vague blobs with strong contrast? Check.

What had happened to her? She racked her brain, trying to remember what had led her here. Was she in an accident? Where was her family? Was she going to live? But no matter how she strained herself to recall what had happened, there was only haze. Maybe it was better that way, the not knowing.

For weeks, all she knew was that when she was hungry she was fed, when she felt dirty, she was cleaned. She was aware she cried, which looking back on, was embarrassing, but she was deeply disoriented, some allowances could be made.

She clued in on bits and pieces in her rare moments of lucidity. The murmured voices around her seemed to be speaking Japanese. Why was she in Japan? She was often picked up and jostled; why was she moved so much? There was something in the air here, something almost fortifying. Were they pumping extra oxygen into a hospital room?

At the eight-week mark of her new form of consciousness, her eyes became strong enough to see she was being cradled. As a grown woman, she was obviously confused. Why was she being held like a child? Who was this massive person holding her? It seemed like all she had been doing since bursting into consciousness was ask questions with no answers.

She blinked the blue eyes she didn't know she possessed and, startled, observed her tiny, pudgy fingers, her miniature feet, clothed in a onesie curled towards her chest, and the vagueness of a woman smiling and rocking her.

The girl, now known as Nanami, promptly burst into tears.

* * *

A fly on the wall would see a fairly pretty baby; rounded cheeks, large, cornflower blue eyes, striking against dark honey skin, laying quietly in her cradle, chewing on a fist.

What that fly wouldn't see was the chaos barraging the now Nanami's thoughts. She remembered now. Not what brought her here, but who she was before whatever _this_ was. She remembered her family. She remembered her fiancé. She hoped they were safe. She hoped their grief would subside.

 _I love you all, I love you even after I've died. Mom, Dad, thank you for the sacrifices you made for me and your unconditional love and support. Thank you for being in my world. Brother, please take care of Mom and Dad, they'll need you. I know you can do it, you're incredible, you're my best friend. Thank you for being in my world. And…and Sweetheart. I hope you find happiness again. I hope you fall in love again and share with someone all the amazing things you have to give to the world. Please remember me because I'll never forget you. Thank you for being in my world._

Tears came to her now infant eyes, but she remained quiet, which she was sure made an odd sight. Nanami couldn't reflect on the ones she left behind in her past life for too long. The hurt was too great.

She tempered her mourning not only for her own sanity, but for the sake of the woman now her mother. Through her confusion and heartache, guilt cut through. She was robbing this woman of her actual child, a child that belonged to her. She hadn't done it on purpose, at least she didn't think she had. But all the same, this mother - who was so attentive that even through her grief, Nanami could feel the aura of love she exuded- was wasting her efforts on someone already claimed. So, she had decided she would make motherhood as easy as she possibly could for this cheated woman. Nanami stayed quiet, cooed and cuddled at all the right times, and felt like a liar.

Somehow, it had only become worse.

It was morning when she spotted it. The small bit of metal that changed everything.

She had been bundled up within an inch of her chubby, baby life and brought out into a bleak, smoggy world.

The woman she assumed to be her mother had placed her in a baby carrier, cooing and fussing over Nanami's (through sheer repetition, she had figured out that 'Nanami' was her new name) cacao hair. That strangeness in the air, when she had assumed she was in a hospital room was immediately present. It had been faint indoors, but outside of the house, in this mist, it was nearly overwhelming. It was so thick, that at first, she was uncomfortable breathing it in, but obviously, she couldn't hold her breath forever. Not that she didn't try.

She coughed and sputtered, and her mother patted her back with a gentle croon.

 _Okay, not trying that again_.

Taking timid, offended breaths, that apparently looked cute, if her mother's ( _okaa-san's_ , she practiced mentally) kisses were anything to go by, Nanami tried to force her little body to grow accustomed to this viscous air. It must be okay if kaa-san wasn't bothered.

As her first time outside of the house she and her mom ( _kaa-san_ )shared, Nanami wriggled in her carrier, determined to observe her surroundings. Pensive eyes darted to anything she could see, trying to make out what she could of her new cosmic mistake of a life.

It was, well… it was shitty. The world was ugly. The sky was dull and because of the heavy, lingering mist, seemed too close to the earth, creating a claustrophobic sensation even outside. Tired was too kind a word to describe the dilapidated, run-down buildings. The roads were cracked and crumbling, mossy green weeds curling up from the fractures, all of which her kaa-san nimbly sidestepped. The streets were already busy for so early in the morning, but not in a bustling productive way. People lingered. Weary women in flaky makeup and thin kimonos with the obi tied in the front (even she knew what that meant) stood on corners and by already opened bars. In doorways and alleyways, men garbed in too many layers appeared asleep, slumped over, and barefooted children scurried between side streets and markets, avoiding rubbish and the occasional discarded needle. It was clear there was a great deal of homelessness and not much empathy. There was a despondency that seemed to permeate the air, just as much as that strange heaviness she was breathing in.

This was not a good place.

 _Holy hell, this place is rough. Who would voluntarily live here?_ She shot an incredulous look to her kaa-san. _You have a decent apartment, you're clean, what's your deal, lady?_

Oblivious to Nanami's skepticism, the dark-haired woman continued onward to her unnamed destination.

Ducking past strangers and neglected, graffiti coated businesses, they kept pace until the buildings began to shrink and wildlife started to overtake. Her kaa-san finally stopped her lithe walk in a wooded underbrush. Nearby, a small pool of water sat placidly, a film of algae on its surface.

Nanami was then placed down in her carrier, propped against a nearby tree with a kiss to her head and happy chatter.

It was then her mother ( _kaa-san_ ) clutched something from a pack Nanami had previously overlooked. It was a strip of navy cloth with something metal in the center. Nanami's brow furrowed.

Until she wrapped the hitai-ate to cover her forehead.

 _Oh._

A hitai-ate with the symbol of Mist.

 _Oh, fuck._


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

 _You call me Weapon_

 _A Kaa-san calls me daughter_

 _I call me adrift_

* * *

Nanami was a good daughter, if not a little odd. Chiyoko often joked, in the way the listener could tell was not really all that joking, that raising Nanami was more like living with a roommate than a growing child.

She had stopped crying around eight weeks old, and while Chiyoko at first had been thankful for the sleep she was getting, she began to grow alarmed by the silence. She started waking up to phantom cries, or became griped with fear of SIDS at all hours of the night, rushing to Nanami's bedside, only to see the baby sleeping, or blinking up at her with placid, saucer eyes.

An appointment with a medic yielded no answers. They simply told her there was nothing wrong with Nanami, and to be thankful she didn't have a fussy baby. Then again, Mist wasn't exactly known for their healthcare.

 _I was just trying to be helpful here. Maybe she'll feel better if I'm a noisier baby? I'd do it if it means not going to that terrible doctor again. Why are sharp teeth a thing here? Do they file them down? Are they actively trying to look like villains? To each their own, but honestly, no thank you._

She toilet trained early. Chiyoko nearly had a heart attack when she found her eight month old daughter, ass stuck in the toilet, legs folded to her chest, babbling to herself in some sort of baby language in a way that somehow sounded self-deprecating.

 _She had to get moving. Not because of any innate need to be active, but for lack of anything better to do. That mobile over her bed that had slowly rotating kunai and shuriken (which would become the topic of a serious talk with Kaa-san once she learned Japanese) might have done the job for an actual baby, but not for her. The lack of mental stimulation was nearly crushing. So she flexed her baby feet, and moved her baby arms, and got herself crawling as early as possible. With freedom of movement, of course came her need for freedom of privacy. She was determined to check that potty training milestone off the list as soon as possible. Nanami couldn't take the mortification of lying there with her legs in the air as her ninja kaa-san wiped her ass any longer. Vanity seemed to transcend reincarnation. Shame that lack of spatial awareness had seemed to follow her as well._

With a child crawling at six months and walking at eight, Chiyoko hid all of the sharp, pointy things lying around the house (and there were quite a few). Nanami toddled around the tatami and slid open the shōji with alarming awareness, in a way that seemed oddly determined for a baby. She looked out windows with a mien of distaste, and blinked passively at clan members who stopped by the house, doting kisses on her, or running a hand through her wavy tufts of hair.

 _They would comment on how pretty she was, all those resigned people who looked like her and Kaa-san. They'd say how fortunate she was that she looked like an Izumi, all dark skin and bright eyes, and not that Sano boy. In the beginning, she couldn't understand the words, but was versed enough in meddling families to understand the meaning. She'd see Kaa-san shoulders stiffen, then forcibly relax, so she'd walk over to her mother, and snuggle into her lap. Chiyoko would kiss the crown of her head, and absently tap the aquiline nose Nanami was keen enough to notice no one else in the family had._

The first road block Nanami met was language. At 5 months, she had been mimicking the noises from Chiyoko's lips, diligently trying to form her own heavy, unskilled tongue around the words. While there was something to be said for total immersion, do or die language learning was exhausting. This wasn't the ease of French, there wasn't language transference with borrowed words on which she could rely. A baby learns the language of their parents' as their first, but Nanami was comparing this language of her Kaa-san to her old. This was the first time her previous life got in the way of her new.

At 2 years old, Nanami had sat in a medic's office yet again, sniffing in disdain at the crinkling of the paper under her, swinging her legs back at forth, hoping someone would give her a lollipop if she looked cute enough. Overhead, Kaa-san asked a medic _-more sharpened teeth, bleurgh-_ what could be done regarding her daughter's speech impediment.

 _It's an accent, not a speech impediment._ Nanami thought sullenly, terrible at receiving criticism. _I can't help it._

The emphasis on syllables was different in a way that meant Nanami would never be able to speak Japanese like a native. She had spent too long speaking English, which stressed the second syllable to not automatically do so in Japanese as well. While Nanami was often told it was pleasing to listen to, it made her difficult to understand at times. Her accent or "speech impediment" would fade in time, but never go away completely.

Of course, the medic simply told her if it doesn't get in the way of daily life, it didn't matter. They also told Chiyoko to get out, and stop wasting their time, which Nanami thought was pretty rude. Chiyoko was just trying to be a good mom. So, she had shoved the entire jar of cheap lollipops under her baggy mauve sweater, when the medic had stepped out, and shared them with her mom when they reached the fog shrouded streets.

While Nanami spoke with an accent that had never before existed, learning to write had come easy for the girl, at least the mechanics of it; and the old woman who visited every Tuesday and Thursday to teach her crooned her praise. Her characters were easy, and graceful, and even at such a young age, showed promise. The old woman she called Oba-san lamented that Nanami's path was already chosen for her. She could have been a calligraphist.

Overall, Nanami was a pensive little girl, who seemed to do everything with the consideration of an adult. She was quiet, reflective, and watched her mother, fellow clan members, and Mist as a whole, with sharp eyes that were too discerning, too aware, and too jaded for one so young.

And Chiyoko was worried.

It did one no good to be a prodigy in Mist. To stand out in Mist was to sign yourself up for an early death.

* * *

Nanami had learned that strange heaviness to the air was chakra. She might not have been a genius in either life, but she was sharp enough to put two and two together when she had first seen her mother's forehead protector. That heaviness in the air, allowed for the destruction and bloodshed that she knew existed in this world. She hated it, but she was also fascinated.

At 20 months, Nanami mustered the courage to patter her way to a sequestered part of the house (more specifically the kitchen, as Chiyoko couldn't cook for the life of her) and prepared herself. She had to see if she had any control of chakra, or if it knew she was a fraud. If it knew she didn't belong here.

She was terrified of it not working. She was terrified of it working, too.

In that tiny, unused kitchen, Nanami sat in meditative pose, hand-me-down sweater draped over her knuckles and knees and timed out her breaths. She sat, trying to trick herself into tranquility when really she was searching for something, anything, that felt like maybe it could be chakra.

She sat in silence for what felt like ages. Breath in through the nose, hold, out through the mouth. In through the nose, hold, out through the mouth. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. In...she found it. Something dense and heady filled her senses. In that small space she gasped. It was a high she had never before experienced. It filled her senses completely. This was life, the sense of being in its most basic form, and tears welled in her eyes at the feeling. She reached for it, brought it viscous and bubbling to her fingertips.

And…it blew up in her face.

Next thing she knew she was sputtering for breath, flat on her back on the kitchen floor, the lights in the room shattered, window cracked. She groaned as she felt hot, cold and nauseous all at once. The sound of glass crunching under feet alerted her to Chiyoko's swift presence. She had received a light swat to her bum, and a lecture on chakra exhaustion and misuse once Chiyoko had made sure she was in one piece.

So… power like that was alarming.

She also learned that she had no choice but to use it.

That first day she had sat in her carrier, watching in horror as Kaa-san adjusted her Hitai-ate, performed a few warm up stretches, and threw kunai with deadly accuracy at a knot in a tree trunk, Nanami knew what her future was to be. _Murderer. Liar. Ninja._

She had learned more too as time went on. Chiyoko was a good mother. She really was. She did her best to show love in a world that encouraged ruthlessness and cruelty. But as much as she wanted to shelter her daughter, she knew she couldn't. So she spoke to her too-knowing baby, tidbits of truth shared like spoonfuls of medicine; bitter, and sobering.

She told Nanami of the Izumi's failings. A clan not affiliated with any hidden village that had been defeated in battle. When asked by Nanami in a hopeful tone why couldn't she write calligraphy as a grown-up, Chiyoko told her simply. She was to be a ninja. It was the Izumi punishment; the lack of choice. They were third caste ninja, their service punishment for defeat. They were the lowest on the rung in Kiri, prisoners in all but name without shackles.

She asked Kaa-san about her father. Nanami could see the pain on her mother's pretty, rounded face and the only answer she got for that query was a blunt, "He's dead."

She didn't ask any more questions.

However, it was when Chiyoko, with simply a lazy flick of her wrist, that first day, pulled a small cyclone of water from that scummy pond, like a damn water-bender did Nanami wonder if she'd even have a future.

It was the Izumi Kekkei Genkai. She found out later, as a toddler on the lap of her mother, what exactly it was. According to Chiyoko it was a reasonably modest bloodline limit as far as bloodline limits went (Nanami stopped herself from snorting at _that_ ). Basically as Nanami could fathom it, it was water bending except with enough chakra, an Izumi could cause the water to boil (Nanami would later find out that Chiyoko was exceptionally good at slinging this boiling water). Of course, this raised more than a few questions. Was this universe related to the avatar universe? Was this the Avatar's past? Nanami wouldn't be surprised at this point. Anything seemed possible in this cosmic train wreck.

Most importantly, the demanding worry that woke Nanami up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat; when was the purge?

Knowledge without understanding seemed worse than ignorance. She knew Kiri would kill off their bloodline limits, but when?

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm definitely not saying it's 100% correct, but I've been reading up on what American English accents sound like in Japanese and on the whole, people have commented that while it sounds nice (kind of like how we view a French accent) the way we mix up stress and pitch makes it hard to understand. Also, I feel like Naruto and Avatar have a lot in common, in my head canon, the Naruto universe evolved into bending, so the Izumi are the start of water bending. Either way, let me have this because it's my silly story, haha. Lastly, thank you so much for the reviews, favs, and follows!


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